


Saturday Morning Respite

by GuileandGall



Series: Violaceous Fury [14]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:19:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1921263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuileandGall/pseuds/GuileandGall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Furia and Troy can manage to carve out just a little time in the hectic lives they lead to just be. What better way to spend a Saturday morning than with breakfast in bed and some cartoons? Written for the Saints Row Pajama Party on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturday Morning Respite

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Chy for giving this a read.

**Saturday Morning Respite**

**-1-**

There was one major disadvantage to slow cooking bacon--it took forever and a day--but it was so worth it. Plus Troy was still asleep and they had no plans for the day so there was no need to rush. The other breakfast items merely waited for the bacon to be near enough to done, not to get cold while it finished. The apartment was quiet, except for the soft sizzle and the sputter that marked the end of the coffee pot's cycle. She tried to whisk the eggs as quietly as she could, but metal tines on a steel bowl--it was doomed to be a sleep disrupting sound.

Furia heard a groan earlier, but nothing else suggested Troy was stirring despite the sun brightly streaming through all the windows. She assumed it likely that if he wasn't up yet he would be soon. She splashed a little milk in the bowl before salting and peppering the butter-colored concoction. Then the swift stirring started again.

"Is that the shirt I lost last week?" Troy grumbled lowly. Seconds later his nose was buried in her hair as he slipped an arm around her waist.

Furia smiled and leaned her shoulders back against him while his other hand swept the hair off her neck. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said innocently.

"Mmhmm." His lips just below her ear prompted her head to tilt, exposing more of her neck, which he tenderly explored.

"I didn't mean to wake you up."

"No one can sleep through the smell of coffee and bacon." His words whispered across her skin, warm and moist, as his nose skimmed her jugular. "Least of all me."

A soft smile curved her mouth. "I thought your big plan was to spend the morning in bed."

"It is. But coffee is still required." His gentle laughter rumbled through him. A squeeze and another lingering kiss on her jaw punctuated his retreat. The cabinet door bounced once when he closed it, while he took his black Troy knew she didn't. He set the sugar bowl and a spoon near her cup and splashed a little milk in the mug for her before returning it to the refrigerator.

Leaning against the counter, he loomed near her, letting his hand brush her neck. Furia turned her head and met his lips; Troy's hand ghosted down again, toward her shoulder. "Need some help?" he asked, pecking her again lightly.

"You can be the toastmaster."

Furia spooned a few tablespoons of bacon drippings into another skillet, letting the pan warm before pouring in the egg mixture. She removed the bacon from the pan and laid it on some paper towels before returning to the scrambled eggs.

When he passed her to get to the refrigerator, Troy let his hands linger on her hip and slid across her lower back. His body pressed against her back when he grabbed two plates from the cabinet as well, whispering a low, "Excuse me," before returning to the other counter. Furia glanced over at him furrowed brow.

Bradshaw just shrugged at her. "What?" he asked with a coy grin as he buttered toast.

Watching him, she could not help wonder what was happening. _Why him? Why now?_ He glanced at her again, raised an eyebrow, and dropped his eyes to the skillet before her. Redirecting her gaze, Furia finished off the eggs, which still turned out light and fluffy despite her distraction.

"I vote picnic," Troy said grabbing the plates after she had divvied out the eggs. "Grab silverware." He was already past the kitchen table. "And the mugs."

Armed with forks and both their mugs, after topping his off, Furia wandered out of the kitchen. The twang that emanated from the bedroom made her curious. Then the giddy and very familiar theme song started.

"What are you doing?" Furia asked with a smile as she walked into the bedroom.

"What? It's Saturday morning," Troy replied with a shrug and an easy smile as he leaned back against the headboard.

"And you stole all the pillows."

He laughed. "I'll be your pillow." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She set his mug on the nightstand and took the plate that still had all its bacon intact before she stepped up onto the bed and walked to the middle where she perched. He gave her a little pout, which prompted her to wink at him and blow a little kiss his way.

 

**-2-**

Leaning back on the pillows stacked against the headboard, Troy grinned over his mug. Furia lay on her stomach, chin in her hands, attention focused on the cartoons. Her feet kicked lazily as she giggled in response to Daffy Duck's insane laughter. She glanced over her shoulder at him with that sweet smile that ground his mind to a halt.

"I never would have figured you for a Looney Tunes kind of guy."

"No one messes with the Road Runner," Troy replied definitively, taking another sip from his almost empty cup.

Furia turned slightly, giving him more of her attention. "True enough. But Bugs Bunny is where it's at. He's smart, gutsy, and can talk a man right out of his common sense."

"Like you?" His lithe touch glided up her bare calf.

The pink on her cheeks preceded a roll of her eyes that returned her attention to the cartoons. Troy, however, continued to sip his coffee and tickle her leg, which she left there for that explicit purpose. Or so he assumed since the other had returned to its little sway.

He just took it all in, surrounded by that laugh and the hint of vanilla. His smile felt involuntary as he reclined there, part of this oddly comfortable moment he did not have any right to. With that realization it started to turn. Then came that little dark shadow, whispering it taunts again, reminding him that even this wonderful feeling would pass--there was no way it could last. Even when he tried to argue against it, that little voice would take on shades of Furia's voice reminding him that he was not entirely who she thought. Then it would whisper words from sermons he heard growing up about love being based in truth and honesty, the accusations came next: you're laying there lying about a basic foundational part of who you are.

_You're a cop. She has no clue who you are_ , the darker voice would accuse.

_I'm more than my job._

_But a man is made of his actions, is he not?_

Even when he most wanted to, he could not disagree with that. He knew that he was the sum of the choices he made. Even the choice to place himself right there in that space at that moment. He could tell her; he knew he could physically say the words. Just hold her tight and whisper the one thing he should not admit into her hair, all the while wishing and praying that her reaction would not be the one that tiptoed through his subconscious.

Bradshaw knew her opinion about cops; her indifference had grown steadily colder the more some of SPD's finest sought to demonstrate their villainous nature. It was a sentiment he could not fault her for because even he reviled the actions those men had taken as much as she did.

"This show will teach you one thing," she said, interrupting his train of thought.

"What's that?" he asked with a distracted laugh, his eyes meeting hers.

"Never trust a woman with a purse shaped like an anvil."

Troy nodded with a chuckle as Bugs Bunny in a pink dress carried just such a purse off screen leaving Yosemite Sam with a chirping headache. "Very true. It is certainly a life lesson."

Furia tilted her head at him. He was certain she could read his distraction. Her smile prompted his own. The swift wink she gave him was more than just a playful gesture. When she faced the television again, Troy felt a sudden pang.

He polished off the last mouthful of his third cup of coffee and shifted, bending over her leg and kissing the back of her ankle. At first she just turned slightly and looked at him. Furia didn't say anything until he reached her knee.

"I thought we were having a lazy Saturday."

His hands swept over the calf he had been tickling for a while then up both her thighs as the pecks continued. "And I can't take liberty during commercials?" he asked, placing a firm bite just shy of her hip. When he nosed at the hem of the button-down shirt she was wearing, her hand glided through his hair, prompting him to crawl up the length of her body as she rolled beneath him. Troy cradled the back of her head in one hand while his body covered hers.

"But I kind of like Looney Tunes," she muttered at him as his nose skimmed her sternum.

"And I really like you," he countered, grinning when rewarded with the slight trace of blush on her copper skin. He tucked his face back into the crook of her neck as he dotted kisses on the skin exposed by the low open collar of his shirt, which she had appropriated.

"I was really hoping they might show the rabbit/duck season one." Her breathing had gone heavy.

One hand kept her neck angled to allow his mouth and teeth more access to that region, while the other moved with careful intent. He would tease then move to a new region; touch lightly there avoiding the spots he knew to be the most sensitive. When her hands dove into his hair, Troy brought his mouth to hers, swallowing the hint of a gasp that accompanied the removal of his attentions from her neck. It was quickly replaced with a humming sigh that more than signaled her contentment with the change.

With a laugh he broke the kiss. Both of their heads tilted toward the screen in time to see Daffy Duck get his bill blown around his head.

"Rabbit season," she said with glee in her voice as she lowered her chin.

"Duck season," he countered in a low whisper against her ear before nipping the lobe.

Furia's hands on his cheeks directed his mouth to hers. His hands continued their teasing patterns over her skin. She sighed languidly when Troy pressed his thigh between her legs.

"Curse you and those jeans."

Troy smiled as he gripped her hip firmly and pressed against her again, eliciting a deliciously deep moan.

"I demand that you shoot me now," she giggled bewitchingly, mimicking the adamant duck on the screen but in a much more enticing tone. Her voice purred in her throat and mixed with the desire in her eyes to create a powerful intoxicant. Bradshaw never thought he could be seduced by the words of Daffy Duck, but then he doubted that was anyone's go to exemplar of sexy.

As skin bared and bodies pressed against one another, they managed to ignore Elmer Fudd's continued random rifle shots and Daffy Duck's ranting. Instead Troy's focus was on her, that softness in her face which gave way to the challenging look that seemed to light her gaze the closer she got to that peak. Troy loved that dare and the way her eyes never left his when she came. She never failed to affect him be it her bruising grip on his hip, her nails in his back, or her teeth sinking into his flesh. But all told it was that look in her eyes when she climaxed, which always broke his resolve.

Seeing her in that moment, open, honest, and unreserved, inspired his desire to be in that space with her, to drown in her pleasure. Like a man toying with an addictive substance, Troy craved it, hungered for her. Tightening his embrace around her hips, he growled his own release against her throat. After which he refused to move, he just inhaled deeply letting the innocent familiar scent of vanilla on her skin make his head spin. As his breathing became, long and slow, a tender hand smoothed down the back of his neck.  Raising his lips to hers, Furia's kiss was gentle, all sweetness spiced with a hint of temptation. The rare quietude seemed to pulse through him. He softly caressed her face as they kissed, his touch whispering hints of the things he could not say and should not feel.

Her smile bloomed against his lips as Porky Pig stuttered his farewell, _That's all folks_. They shared a quick look before falling into hysterical laughter. He buried his face in her neck again, feeling her pulse strong beneath his lips, and Troy could not help the twist of guilt which tainted the comfort he found when her arms tightened around him. His fingers entangled in her smooth ebon hair; he knew he was wrapped up in something he was not supposed to have. He should not be here. She should not be with him. As a contented hum echoed in his ears, accompanied by the light touch on the back of his neck, that twisting sharpened, reminding Troy that even though Furia was not supposed to be his, he had her.


End file.
